


One Moment

by TeamAlphaQ



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Actually makes a lot of sense after chapter one, And you're going to be super confused, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Character Study, Confusing, LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, Like the entire thing just sort of hurts, M/M, Stealing my own prompts tbh, Whatever I felt like it have a cookie, With one tag I can terrify everyone, Written when I was an emotional wreck and it shows, not worth your time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-12-27 09:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12077928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamAlphaQ/pseuds/TeamAlphaQ
Summary: As you stand there, staring out over the abyss, what do you think of? As the ground vanishes from under your feet, are you filled with regrets? As the face of the one person who could have saved you vanishes from view, are you finally at peace? Or is it really so much more... Izaya character study.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Twyd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twyd/gifts).



> This is a one-shot I wrote a while ago. It doesn't make much sense to be honest, I'm not expecting anyone to really understand what I managed to spit up on the page.
> 
> Think of it as a life, flashing before someone's eyes. It comes in snippets and emotions and raw, simplistic imagery that doesn't always make sense. It was a character study yes but it's also accurate, the feeling of seeing all that you've done and it just _hurting_
> 
> Twyd, if you're reading this, confused as to why on earth I would gift this to you, I guess it's just because our conversation about motivations reminded me of this story and prompted me to touch it up and just post it. Because it's all about those emotions underneath the surface, without them, you can never have a good story.
> 
> Regardless, enjoy.

In those moments before he falls, what will run through his head? What is worth his time as those precious few seconds quickly slip away? A question? A word? His life?

Maybe it’s something else entirely.

What is he letting go as the railing slips through his fingers? What pushed him over the edge in the first place? A memory? A mistake? His misery?

Maybe it’s so much more than that.

Does he look back, does he ask if this is the only way?

Or does he bravely face forward with the knowledge that it was inevitable.

Is he grateful it’s over? Does he even blink?

Or does he close his eyes and wish he could have done something different.

In this moment, what happens?

It isn’t really one moment. There are a multitude of fragments, all coalescing into this single second. The breath, the decision, the push, the jump, the long way down. Just a second, but how much is able to run through his mind before it all fades to black?

A lot, actually. Too much.

Maybe enough to bring him back over the edge, but not enough to drag his spirit back as well. 

So he stands there, raven hair blowing in the wind, fingers outstretched like he’s about to take flight. And he hesitates but it’s not enough because all he really wants is it to be over. It doesn’t matter anymore, none of it does. Just this moment, just this second where he floats above that line that separates the pain of reality from the blessed finality of death.

That is, in the end, the weight that drags him over, allowing him to drift before forcing him to fall. 

The man on the roof behind him vanishes for a second, fading into colors, grainy in memory.

A single thought, a bubble, the promise of a happy family. His family, before he came into being. Then anger, resentment, distaste. Unwanted, unloved, not that he really cared. 

He didn’t cavort with the other children, he manipulated them. Psychopaths drown puppies, kill kittens while they laugh. What kind of game is that? He convinced children to drown  _ children _ with just a word. Much more interesting, there was never a dull moment. 

Anger, sadness, sick satisfaction at a job well done.

His sisters, twins. Newborn girls sporting his bright red eyes. Perfect, better in every way. Genius, kind, normal. Hatred, defeat. They were the good ones, he was forgotten. 

Did it burn? Yes. Did he care? Perhaps? 

Maybe if he’d thought about it, the reality would have crushed him. But he had his bubble, he had his truths. He worked his fingers into society instead of working them into the mud like his peers, cutting with knives when words wouldn’t work. His sisters, forgotten. His family, tossed aside.

They were useless to him, he was determined to make them useless to him.

Fragile, disguised, withdrawn.

Highschool, easy, boring, child's-play. But he was missing something. Friendship? No, he didn’t need friends, he just needed humans. he needed their fear, he was their god. Grandeur, control, power. It was fine, he would be okay. Another memory, just another lie.

So many  _ lies, _ all compounding on each other until they dug his grave and made his coffin.

But he wasn’t to be left alone in the darkness.

_ Him _ . A meeting, a mistake, a moment, a change he hadn't foreseen. Hatred, fear, intrigue. Longing. A friend, an enemy, a rival, a game.  _ Death. _ The flash of a knife, the boy’s shout of pain. The glare, the yell, the chase. Relief,  _ escape. _

Blessed, beautiful freedom from everything that he hated most about himself.

For this one single moment in time, he could have had something good but he’d twisted it into something detestable. 

Grief, regret,  _ pain. _

So he moved on.

A job, a life. Cunning, twisted, conning, abusive. Obsession. Lies, every one of them lies. Manipulating the system till he rose to the top, but that beast always followed, his filth, his taint. A mistake. 

He’d wanted a friend, he had received the protagonist of his own story. A monster. His monster. The only good thing he’d ever found.

His apartment, his life, cold, empty, alone. Tired, always so tired and bored. Escape was impossible, running away from himself was futile. So he just put up another wall and kept moving.

The monster’s roars as he was baited into hatred, into fighting. Uncontrolled, inuman, but ever so good. It was all just one big game, one wrong choice after another. Breaking, dissolving, giving up on it all. Down the path of least resistance, hatred, anger, hiding the hole inside that he couldn’t fill.

Except it couldn’t stay like that, could it. He was too smart to simply fool himself into believing he was okay.

The breakdown, that street. The bitter laughter. Realization, revelation, total self-destruction. The cuts, the blood, the frustration, the face of his enemy. The good in his life that had left him at last. That monstrous face, twisted with disgust and hate as he finally snapped for real. Every word that tripped from his mouth cutting, scathing,  _ true, all true. _

Fear, self-loathing, misery.

And now, here. One last chase, one last laugh. Relief, release, the end. 

Wind whistles through his fingers as he lets it all go and just tips over the edge. It’s over, he doesn’t have to think about it anymore. He doesn’t have to wonder if the next day will be worse. It’s over.

He doesn’t have to hate what he’s become, he can simply let it all go.

Finality, breaking apart, giving in.

It’s over for him, his monster’s life can now begin.

He doesn’t expect to hear the cry of fear from the monster behind him, the one who always hated him, who in the end made him realize that this outcome was inevitable. It surprises him, but he twists in mid-air and smiles nonetheless. Smiles at the blond-haired man who reaches out to stop him. And even though he’s plummeting off the side of the skyscraper, tumbling through the air, the look on his enemy’s face starts to heal the broken hole in his heart.

_ Goodbye Shizu-chan, see you in the next life. _

A strong hand tangles in the front of his coat, and suddenly, he’s no longer falling.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the monster roars, the wind almost drowning out his words. The rushing in his ears, it blows away his beast’s voice. “What the fuck is this supposed to be Izaya?”

The hand drags him up, he clutches to it. A lifeline, a string, a piece of fate that won’t let him go. It so stubborn and yet it makes him open his eyes for the first time in years. Izaya holds on to that light, the fog clearing from his mind. Life, emotions, empathy, feelings. Longing, need. Him, the monster. His future, hanging in the balance. He can see it now, the veil has been lifted, the pain has been dulled.

Beneath his feet, the ground is hard. Solid, focusing his mind. Reality narrows, All he can see is the monster, his enemy, his rival, his friend. His world.  Mistakes, compounded on each other, compressed into a single person. All the goodness he never could have because no matter what he did, he could never be good enough to hold it. His legs crumple beneath him, the man holds him up.

The beast shakes him violently, the pain brings him to life. “Why would you do that? Why would you kill yourself Izaya?” His golden eyes are terrified. Anger, desperation, fear, confusion. All of it, crashing around the man who just hangs limply in the monster’s hands like a rag doll. “Why do you want to die? Why do you want to leave?”

“You.” It’s the simplest explanation. It says everything a million words never could. The monster looks stunned. Confusion, disbelief, guilt, blaming himself without knowing what Izaya means. The fingers clamped in the front of his coat loosen as the beast blinks. Starts to withdraw, horrified, before Izaya reaches for him.

“I’m sorry Shizuo,” he whispers. A breath, a bandaid. Not a fix, not a solution, just the ghost of what could have been and the desire to find it, even among the ashes. The blond man looks down, twisting expression, fear in his eyes, apologies on his lips. It doesn’t suit him, pain never did. 

“I just was tired of pretending it didn’t hurt.”

Desperate confusion swirls from the monster.

But in his eyes is a breath of understanding.

“You don’t have to pretend,” Shizuo murmurs. A dream, a mirage, untrue or just too good to be true. And then he reaches. And then the distance closes. And then the air stills. And then Izaya’s heart pounds in his ears. Fingers, such a comforting touch, an entirely grounding weight. Shizuo’s hand is in his hair and it’s too familiar, the look on his face is too soft. His words come out gruff, but he means them. “You don’t have to hide.”

Drawn closer, Izaya lets himself fall into Shizuo’s gaze. A chance, a miracle, an answer to a prayer sent up to a god he doesn’t believe in. “Then what do I do.” It’s a breath against Shizuo’s face because the man is looming close in his vision. It’s a question as a statement because Izaya doesn’t have the strength to ask for help.

But he has the strength to listen.

“Say,” is the answer. “Stay here.”

“Stay with me.”

Izaya inhales, except it’s Shizuo’s breath he’s drawing in and the lips pressed against his own are a promise. An oath to exist. A pledge to trust. A vow to change. And he didn’t even know it would end like this, but the tear that falls is the first of many and for some reason, it’s a relief.

One moment is all it takes. 

In that moment, everything can change.


	2. Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even at the age of five, Izaya wasn't normal.

Izaya is not a normal child. Anyone with eyes in their head can see that. Even at the age of five, he's an anomaly and Izaya is fully aware of this too.

Five is an interesting age, it’s were many children start to develop higher thought processes. You can have a conversation with them, you can ask them questions past their name and their age and they won’t give you blank looks. It’s also when many children start kindergarten.

For Izaya, it’s the age at which he grasps the fact that he is unwanted.

Most children aren’t forced to understand this at the tender age of five, especially not children who share Izaya’s socioeconomic standing. Those children never have to wonder if mother and father love them because they’re very sure they do. Izaya on the other hand has been questioning that basic fact for two years and it’s only now that he’s come to the conclusion that he was a mistake.

Not in the normal sense, he’s pretty sure his parents would have loved to have a sweet, happy child but he’s only five so his ideas of this perfect child are rather limited. He does however know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is  _ not _ that child. Because as stated previously, Izaya is not normal.

How? Well for one, he’s a lot smarter than most. For all the baby fat still resiliently clinging to his cheeks, Izaya does not think like a child. Sure he hasn’t yet managed to grasp the fine details of the world but he knows how to open his eyes and he knows how to  _ look _ and he’s fairly good at forming opinions based on what he sees.

Apparently, people find this disconcerting, especially when he bluntly states his thoughts on a matter without any regard for what those words might do. But when this starts he’s only three and he definitely doesn’t understand what ramifications are at that age.

So when he repeats to his mother day in and day out that his father doesn’t love her because well he  _ doesn’t, can’t she just open her eyes and see it, _ it’s not taken to favorably. Bad enough that he was born with red eyes like those of a demon, now he also talked about horrible things that would have upset most anyone. His mother never liked him in the first place, but Izaya eventually pushed her into dislike.

As he gets older, he starts to realize what he’s done and it’s only then that he starts learning to keep his mouth shut. No one wants to know what he knows, not even his parents. Perhaps the more accurate statement would be  _ especially _ his parents. So Izaya begins the steady process of shutting himself away.

It’s a necessity at this point.

Except that doesn’t mean he stops watching, stops learning. No he continues to learn and grow and mature while the rest of the world simply becomes a distraction. He’s only five but already Izaya is convinced that the world is not something he wants to be a  _ part of, _ it’s something that he deigns to  _ live in. _ All the people around him, they aren’t able to see the simple threads that run through life, tying everything together into a great, heaving mess. Since he’s only five and he sees it clear as day, Izaya assumes that this must mean he is either far smarter than everyone else, or everyone else is simply unknowingly stupid.

He’s only five. Izaya already understands just how different he is.

His parents don’t grow any fonder of him once he shuts his mouth, in fact, he’s the dirt on their shoes for all they care. Izaya knows that the only reason they still take care of him at all is because they’re worried about their image. He’s already counting down the days till they decide he’s self-sufficient enough to handle his own life. It’s not going to take long and to be perfectly honest, he’s looking forward to it. 

Because once his parents no longer pretend to parent him, Izaya will be able to make his own decisions and it hardly matters that he’s got chubby cheeks and an eternal pout, he’s going to make the rest of the world understand what his parents never could. That he is worth something, and that something is far greater than everyone else’s somethings.

When you’re still being forced to go to bed at seven however, it’s very hard to make people take you seriously. So Izaya starts small because well… He’s small and he still can’t always keep up with the adults around him. He’s far better at it than most, but he’s got some growing left to do. In lieu of this, Izaya finds a substitute to satisfy his boredom.

Other children, he discovers, are some of the best toys in existence at that moment. They talk, they walk, they cry when things don’t go their way and they crave instant gratification like no one else. Later he’ll realize that adults aren’t really that much different but at five, he decides that playing with the animals is the best he can do until he’s big enough to instead play with the farmers.

Of course, he doesn’t  _ play _ with the children. Izaya thinks that everything these creatures do is asinine and annoying but he does talk to them, or at least, he talks to them until they cease being able to understand him. After he realizes that what he’s saying is going over the other children’s heads, Izaya dumbs down his language, fine tunes his technique and tries again. Once he can speak their language, things become a lot easier.

Izaya most likes talking to the older children. The seven and eight year olds who normally wouldn’t take a five year old like him seriously. It means it’s a challenge, one he rises to gracefully. He has to convince these idiotic creatures that he is, in fact, as good if not better than them. Even this young, humans flock towards power.

So all he has to do is become the most powerful thing in their young and feeble minds and these children will do anything he says. This works for the younger ones at least. When it doesn’t quite work for the older ones, Izaya quickly learns the art of bargaining and inevitably, cheating.

As he slowly gains control of the playground, the park and any other place large numbers of children gather, Izaya starts to become aware of the small faction of kids who don’t bow to him. He’s not even invested in this game anymore but this is just another challenge he can have fun with while he grows up some more.

Without any real plan going in, he starts seeing how far he can push those who think they are closest to him before they start to wonder what’s going on. His answer is pretty damn far. But that’s not even a test so he instead starts pushing the buttons of those on the very fringes, those with the smallest amount of skin in the game. At the age of five, now going on six, Izaya doesn’t call it manipulation. He calls it  _ in my opinion. _

People who aren’t his parents are starting to listen to that opinion.

What does he do with this opinion? Well, he makes everyone else believe it like gospel truth. Once he’s established his supremacy, it’s a simple matter to take down those who would think themselves above him.

Back at home, his parents move from dislike into active hatred. Izaya  _ doesn’t _ mind, that’s what he tells himself when they yell and scream at him that everything bad that happens to them is his fault. It’s just white noise, he’s got other games to play. Ones that involve people who are more his age group.

If his parents are going to call him a demon, why not be a demon.

It starts with convincing those around him to perform acts of casual cruelty towards the other children. He lets most everyone do this, doesn’t bother hiding the fact that he dislikes the ‘non-believers’ and thus gets to watch the fallout with glee. Skinned knees and tearstained faces are the result. But more than that, those rebellious children slowly start to come into his fold, they start to believe what he says as well.

Izaya becomes like a god.

Really, he’s not complaining. He’s only six but he likes it when other kids treat him with fearful reverence. He could get used to this. It’s at this point that he decides he  _ will _ get used to it because this is going to be the rest of his life, just on a bigger scale.

Except despite this hold on his peers, Izaya sees those outside of his control and just wants to make their lives  _ hard. _ He doesn’t need to, he gets nothing from it but he’s bored again and he wonders if he can make those children feel just as unwanted as he does on those nights when his fragile and childish shields suffer major damage.

So he chooses a target, a small girl with a ruddy face and big blue eyes and makes her suffer. He, naturally, never makes contact with her. If anything, he’s kind to her. Izaya knows better than to allow himself to become the target of parental suspicion. To keep this from happening, he stands back and lets other people get their hands dirty.

Rocks are thrown, childish insults are exchanged. The girl is ostracized and yet she keeps resisting, keeps coming back. Izaya doesn’t get annoyed per say but he does find an inordinate amount of pleasure in watching her pretty dress get torn and her curls get pulled to the point of tearing as well. Yet when asked to, when in the way of the worst of it, he helps her up and watches silently as she goes running back to her mother.

It’s not enough, he wants to see just how far he can push a person till they break. Izaya, at age six, doesn’t know what this breaking entails. He doesn’t yet fully grasp the limits of a human, mentally or physically but he has to learn sometime and watching this girl be destroyed is probably the best live demonstration he’s going to get.

So he watches and he thinks and he keeps putting words in the heads of those around him till they go to greater and greater lengths to torment the girl. And this is how it continues until that fateful day in September. An eight year old, one of Izaya’s least loyal and most volatile, finally cracks. Izaya saw it coming, expected this when no one else did.

But they weren’t watching for it.

This boy cracks under all the pressure Izaya’s been putting him under and he goes off. His target is the only one his childish mind has ever known. The girl.

The slide isn’t that high, but if you fall off of it at the wrong point, the pavement is just a little too close by. Izaya gets to watch it happen, sitting as he is on his throne that is the monkey bars, the most advantageous location to observe from. He usually sits there, no one else dares to challenge him.

All it takes is a push. The girl’s hair flies out behind her like wings. Izaya doesn’t blink as she hits the pavement at the wrong angle and her neck makes a snapping sound that echoes over the park.

He doesn’t move, not until the police officers show up and get him down. As he’s wrapped in a trauma blanket because they can’t find his parents and he’s just witnessed a child die, Izaya simply thinks. He’s not traumatized, in fact, as he watches a white sheet be laid out over the small, limp body, he’s actually delighted.

It’s sick, but then, Izaya never claimed to be normal.


	3. A Learning Curve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At nine, Izaya realizes that he needs to do some learning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this thing is continuing. If you hadn't already noticed XD
> 
> I do hope you enjoy the style. I guess I'll start marking down how many chapters are left.
> 
> Enjoy, especially you Twyd. You are an amazing inspiration~

At the age of nine, Izaya’s life changes entirely.

He’s not exactly prepared for it. Of course, he’d known it was coming, one tends to notice these things but all the same, he’s surprised. This, he tells himself, is the last time he’s going to let something like this shock him.

What gets him so worked up you ask?

His parents leave for the hospital one day and the next they come back with two little girls. Mairu and Kururi, his brand new sisters.

Up until this point, Izaya’s had his life figured out. Things make sense, or at least, as much sense as his childish brain allows it to make sense. It often frustrates him that despite his capacity to understand more, his body physically keeps him from doing so. Izaya always strives to push these limits, but at the end of the day he can only comprehend so much and his teachers do nothing to make it any easier.

Currently breezing through fourth grade as he is, Izaya has almost become bored again. Things have slowly curbed in terms of how interesting he can make them. He is, for the most part, a social outcast. Not because of the other children but by choice. Instead, he prefers to watch them, analyzing their behavioral patterns and inserting himself where and when he so desires.

He still doesn’t call it what it is. At this point, he calls it _ potential and opportunity. _ Izaya makes full use of both, judging the potential of those around him and using every opportunity presented to twist people to his will.

Nine years old, but he’s got the school under his thumb without them even knowing it.

But Izaya’s tired of predictable. Perhaps, looking back on it, he shouldn’t have wished so hard for change.

His new sisters are, by all accounts, the perfect distraction and the perfect torture. Even at a week old they have black wisps on their heads and bright red eyes, exactly like his own. Izaya is drawn to them, but at the same time, he’s repulsed. Not by the twins, but by his parents.

They love the new additions to the family.

Izaya isn’t one to feel jealous. He’s long since gotten over the fact that his parents dislike if not despise him. Their words roll off of him at this point, he’s learned to smirk and twirl his delicate fingers playfully. Nothing they say sticks.

Except when his mother says his sisters are  _ perfect. _

There’s a memory there, one of Izaya wishing for a time that he could be that perfect child his parents wanted. It’s old, hardly worth mentioning. A childish relic of a childish time. But to hear those platitudes lavished on his new sisters, both of whom are practically useless at this point, Izaya  _ dislikes  _ it.

So he drives himself forward at school.

Since that eventful afternoon back all those years ago, Izaya hasn’t witnessed anyone die again. He also has stayed away from much of that cruel muelish aspect of human behavior. Seeing as he no longer encourages people to engage in physical violence, Izaya decides that though he is only nine, he needs to know more. Not just about breaking people, but the process other humans take to get there.

Izaya doesn’t want to sully his name. He doesn’t want there to be any more reasons for his parents to yell at him in front of his new siblings, just in case they absorb it and parrot it back in the future. No, he needs to do something slightly different.

Call it an itch, a persistent thing that keeps pushing him to take things to their extremes.

So he gets out of the house and starts wandering the city of Tokyo. The Toshima district is big enough to have many different facets to it. Izaya finds that the industrial parts are his favorite. Lots of places to hide and plenty of rougher people to go around. He’s not sure what he’s planning, he’s certainly not strong enough to beat any of the delinquents he might come across in a fight but maybe he doesn’t need to.

Of course, with his better than average clothes and smile on his face, Izaya is a target. This isn’t planned, but Izaya decides that he likes this. Likes making himself something people want to do away with. Because hatred is something he understands. It’s all he’s ever understood.

To draw out this hatred, he starts to stray deeper and deeper into these rougher parts of Toshima. It takes a few days to draw the attention of the older kids from the elementary school down there but he manages. The quick tongue he’s got in his head helps. From there, it’s a simple matter of deciding what he wants to do with all the anger he’s creating.

Izaya isn’t immediately sure, so he takes a few days to figure it out.

His parents move him out of his room and into the smaller room down the hall. Mairu and Kururi get his old room. Izaya doesn’t fault them for this, but he does get irritated when they won’t let him get close to the month old babies. His mother seems to think Izaya will contaminate them. At some point, Izaya stops trying.

But he never stops talking to them. 

When his mother is in the kitchen or in the living room and Izaya has a moment alone with his sisters, he sits before their playpen and whispers things to them. What he says isn’t always nice, he feels no desire to sugar coat anything when it comes to these two, but he doesn’t just attack, he also explains.

He tells them about the bullies and delinquents that he’s been taunting. Though Izaya knows the girls won’t understand a word of what he’s saying, he asks their opinions.

“What should I do with them? I want to use this to my advantage but all I usually do is control people. I don’t want to control them, I want to make use of their anger to further my knowledge.” Mairu makes a sound that isn’t even really baby babble. Kururi just blinks slowly.

It’s at this moment however that Izaya’s mother returns.

For the first time ever, she hits him. Strikes him backhanded across the cheek. It hurts and Izaya isn’t even sure how to get out of its way. Biting his lip to hold back any number of things, tears, words, emotions, Izaya just stands before her and stares as she yells. Her irrational anger reminds him of the delinquents and suddenly, Izaya has his answer.

Though his sisters are silent thus far, they answer his question better than anyone else could.

He wants to learn what pain is and he wants to learn how to avoid it.

Pain is not something Izaya is used to. He’s always been a rather dexterous child, never falling much or getting blacked and blued. But as his mother sends him to his room and Izaya proceeds to climb out of his window and start wandering down the street, he realizes that pain is inevitable for him just as much as it is inevitable for all of the other humans around him.

So what does he do? He goes back to the bullies he’s been winding up and decides to use his ability to push at other people’s buttons to make them snap.

They’re a lot bigger than him, the group of sixth graders that break first. Everything about them is bigger and meaner. Izaya’s got a very fine bone structure, glossy black hair and soft ivory skin. He’s not delicate so much as refined. In a place like that, his type doesn’t last long.

This first day, he’s left bruised, bleeding and in more pain than he’s ever been in before. But Izaya can handle hatred and now he’s pushing himself to handle his own blood and pain. It’s not a pretty sight, but he doesn’t care about his appearance. There’s nothing that’s going to cause lasting damage and that, in Izaya’s mind, is good enough.

Quite possibly the most telling part of it all is that neither of Izaya’s parents say a word.

So Izaya learns how to care for the worst of his injuries. He steals some of his mother’s makeup to hide the bruises on his face and the next day when he leaves for school, he doesn’t look or act like he was beaten up the day before. Izaya looks just fine.

By the end of the day, he’s itching to go back.

First though, he stops by his house to see his sisters.

It’s strange, though he holds no love for them, nothing but a strange sort of echoing longing to be like them that he keeps tucked in the back of his mind, Izaya is attached to Mairu and Kururi. Though they don’t understand him, his words or in later years, his brilliance, they listen like he did. Whether they’ll use their knowledge like he did is up for debate because they’re only a month old and chances are they won’t remember these days but he will.

Someday, they might understand why he’ll never care about them and why their parents will likely stop lavishing them with attention the moment they lose interest. Until then, Izaya simply kneels beside their playpen. Today, he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he gets their attention and slowly drags a damp cloth over his face, removing the makeup.

They stare at the bruises and the cuts with silent stoicism that is beyond them. Izaya knows at that moment that at some fundamental level, they will become like him. A month, he chastises himself, is too young to know this for certain, but he knows its true all the same. Even laying on their backs, staring up at him, Mairu and Kururi are aware.

He leaves his things in his room before leaving. Izaya doesn’t bother telling his mother where he is going. She wouldn’t care anyway and besides, he has no need for her fake mothering as she pretends to want him to be safe.

Instead he goes back to the bullies and lets the day before happen all over again.

Except this time he changes it. He starts to learn to get away.

They still end up thrashing him. This time Izaya’s mouth is left bleeding and he’s walking with a limp but regardless, he wants to prove that he’s better than this pain and even in this state, he can function at a level above those around him. So he slowly climbs up a fire escape and starts back towards his house, this time on the closely packed roofs of the industrial complexes.

Though he stumbles, he forces himself to run. Leg throbbing and arm bleeding, Izaya lets the world just fade away in a blur of colors. He’s not that fast but at nine, with his thin legs that start to shake under the exertion and his chest which got kicked at least twice, Izaya feels like he’s flying.

At some point, he falls. But he gets back up and keeps going. This, he knows, is something.

Next time, he’s not going to let himself get quite as hurt.

Over the next few months, he keeps going back to those bullies on a regular basis. He lets them think that they are, in fact, in control of the situation. There’s no harm after all in making them think that he needs to go through this part of town to get home. But the fights don’t stay a one way game. Izaya starts to get better at avoiding the worst of it yet still he likes to keep them after him. In the end, usually, he’ll let them win before disappearing and fading from the forefronts of their minds.

His current game, the true interest of the continued exercises, is his ability to navigate objects around himself and use them to his advantage. Izaya’s entirely aware that this is not an accurate measure of his abilities. This particular portion of Toshima is, after all, much more suited to his sort of escapist style, but Izaya decides that this isn’t going to matter in the long run.

Though he doesn’t ever directly fight back, he hardly ever actually gets hurt anymore. Instead, he flirts with danger, runs along the roofs and drags the boys after him. They’re unbearably slow and he has to drag himself down for them so they don’t lose interest but it’s still fun. His childish body is being forced to hold up under the strain he puts on it and he likes the changes. Quicker reflexes, stronger legs, sharper senses.

Izaya is improving himself physically now as well as mentally.

It’s on the day that his sisters first start to crawl that Izaya first contemplates fighting back against the bullies that he himself has enticed into this whole game in the first place. He gets to bear witness to this event in fact. His mother has them sitting on the floor and she’s kneeling there, encouraging them forward.

As Izaya walks through the door, his mother looks up and glares at him. Mairu and Kururi turn towards him as well and unlike their mother, they both smile. Mairu’s grin is wide, her chubby cheeks stretching to accommodate her toothy smile. Kururi’s tiny mouth only stretches a little, but it’s still a smile.

Their mother, inevitably, snapps at Izaya for interrupting her, tells him to leave so she can focus on his sisters. Izaya doesn’t listen, he simply looks down at Kururi and Mairu and says softly, “Come on, move.”

Before his mother can start berating him, something happens. It starts with Kururi, who had been firmly planted on her butt before that moment, rolling over till she was on her belly. Then Mairu, who was already on her knees, pushes her tiny body up on pudgy hands and waits for her sister to do similar before wobbling towards Izaya.

Their mother watches in shock before her mouth turns down and she’s storming towards Izaya in fury. Noticing his sisters are in the way, Izaya moves quickly. Dropping his bag he stoops and picks his sisters up, dodging out of the way of his mother’s wrath. She’s shouting something at him, yelling how he’s a failure and that he’s corrupted his sisters too and why can’t he just  _ die _ already.

And it’s at that moment that Izaya realizes that even with his struggling sisters in his arms, he could incapacitate his mother. He’s seen the boys who chase him do it with their fists, the backs of their blades and the sharp edges when he’s not quick enough to get out of their way. Right there, protecting not just himself but his sisters, Izaya knows that he could hurt his mother.

He doesn’t, he deposits the girls on the cushions before running to his room and locking the door behind him. From under his mattress, he retrieves one of the knives he stole from the sixth graders before he pops out the window, nimble as a cat.

As the sounds of his sisters’ wails dissipate from the air around him, Izaya heads for his usual game. It’s not a conscious decision, what he’s about to do, but at the same time it is. He can’t hurt his mother, he would never do something that stupid but he can hurt the other tormentors in his life. Nevermind that he’s the one who instituted them there in the first place, there’s really nothing more to be learned from them.

He’s faster than them, smarter than them, and now, he’s more dangerous.

When he reaches them, Izaya doesn’t bother acting scared, he simply waltzes forward, poised on the balls of his feet like the feline that he’s become. The boys laugh and jeer, they don’t know what’s coming. Izaya, however does. He also knows that whatever damage he does, he can fix.

These afternoons have taught him quite a bit but the time for learning is over. Now, he’s going to complete the practical exam and graduate.

And as he chuckles softly, more of a hiss than anything, Izaya tells himself that this isn’t because he feels powerless at times, it’s because he can. He’s convinced that he wants nothing more than to make these people feel a little bit of pain.

“Why are you laughing Orihara?” one of the boys asks, leering at him nastily. “You masochistic little bastard, you like this don’t you?”

Instead of rising to the jibe, Izaya just pulls out the knife. It’s heavier than he expects but he likes that dead weight in his palm. “I’m actually tired of it,” he hums, wishing he could twirl the thing but satisfying himself with simply flicking the blade out. “But that’s okay.”

He smiles, but it’s not a smile.It’s a smirk. The first, he suspects, of many.

“I’m going to make this interesting again.”

They don’t make a sound. Izaya is just that good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, Izaya is a badass.
> 
> An emotionally stunted badass but hey, not everyone is perfect.


	4. Eye Opening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The underbelly's sicker than it seems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, I'm not sorry.
> 
> Okay, maybe a little. (Kanra please don't cry, you know I love Izaya, he's perfect, I don't want to hurt him but I mean come oN I HAD TO!)
> 
> Enjoy!

Ten is the age at which Izaya makes his foray into greater underground society.

He’s made uncertain movements towards it in the past, using his talent for listening and keeping his mouth shut when he needed to be shut to collect information that in a less knowledgeable human’s hands would be useless. Izaya’s parents gave him an old, beat up laptop the other year when his school had required it so he has a way in, all he really needs to do is make himself known.

So he finds the darker parts of the web through careful and judicious searching. He’s forced to go slow, after all, he’s only nine when he starts and even at the age of ten almost eleven when he decides he’s gathered enough information to become useful to others, he’s still young.

But he started small and he’s staying small for now.

Message boards, he discovers, are the best places to find information at his age. People there don’t watch their tongues. Izaya realizes very quickly that if he goes to the right places, he can find supply. He also finds passwords to other places, which then give him the demand. It’s a simple game of miss-and-match after that.

As he learns to do this, he watches as his sisters learn to talk.

Mairu and Kururi both start talking on the same day. His mother has been trying to encourage Mairu especially to stop the baby babble and speak but, as expected, she’s been unsuccessful.

Izaya sits down with them one day in front of his old laptop, one on either side of him. He doesn’t go into this moment thinking he’s going to get them to talk but at some point, as Mairu tells him some complex story in a language that’s all her own, Kururi only adding in the occasional coo, Izaya sighs and looks at his sisters in exasperation.

“I can’t understand you,” he says bluntly, unlike his mother, who pretends like she can even when she’s as clueless as he is. When both of his sisters stop babbling, Izaya goes back to his browsing, a chat log that he’s currently on with a Yakuza member who thinks he’s a seventeen year old girl. The man is stupid, Izaya, over the years, has learned to like stupid.

He’s so engrossed in what he’s doing that he almost doesn’t notice the tentative tug on his arm.

Looking down, he finds Mairu’s tiny mouth opening in a concentrated way, like she’s exerting every bit of her effort to move it. Giving him an uncanny look, the little one year old says, in a slightly muddled tone, “I-za.”

From his other side, Kururi says in a softer voice, “Iza~”

Not even batting an eye, Izaya flirtatiously tells the gang member he’ll be right back before shutting the laptop so he can focus on his sisters. “No,” he corrects, quietly, almost as if he’s worried their mother will hear him talking to his sisters like this. “Iza-nii.”

As one, both little girls chorus, “Iza-nii!” before breaking into a storm of giggles.

Uncharacteristically, Izaya finds a soft smile tugging over his lips.

But of course he can’t spend all his time talking to his sisters, no matter how precious and sweet they may seem, so he doubles down on his attempts to learn how the world works. And not just the world, the underbelly of it. The dark and depraved corners that really weren’t made for a child but were absolutely made for Izaya. There, he grows his abilities carefully, working hard to create a niche for himself so that when he gets a bit older, he’ll be able to hit the ground running.

By the time he’s almost eleven, Izaya is beyond ready.

People online are so easy to play with, he discovers. Unlike in real life, they don’t judge him based on his appearance, they judge him on his intellect alone. Seeing as his mental abilities far outstrip the average adult at this point, Izaya weaves his way through the world with ease, pretending to be who he needs to be to get where he wants to go.

Of course in the real world, he isn’t quite as big. He’s still, after all, only in sixth grade. He’s small, hardly pushing four eleven. His fame is still slight and though he is probably far more agile than the vast majority of his school, probably even the district, Izaya isn’t physically intimidating in the least. All he is, Izaya discovers, is a tiny, raven-haired child who is too smart for his own good.

But he’s almost there, he can feel it. Getting bored again, Izaya’s determined to find something to do.

Joining the real world seems like a challenge he could get behind.

His current challenge involves dealing with his sisters, who have reached the age of eighteen months awfully fast. Their new favorite thing to do is ask why. All the time, about everything, without ceasing.

Izaya’s mother quickly loses interest in answering Mairu and Kururi, finding the task of explaining every tiny piece of the world tiresome. Izaya’s father has a bit more patience and is rather good about elaborating every time the dreaded word why pops out of either of the girl’s mouths. But his answers tend towards the complicated side so all they do is leave the girls with more questions. 

In the end, only Izaya is willing to rise to the job with the same grace with which he does everything. He lets the girls crawl all over his room, even though their own is far bigger and full of many more toys to play with. When they ask, he picks them up and lets them sit on his bed with him. Without complaint, Izaya listens to Mairu’s long, slightly incoherent strings of sentences and nods along with Kururi’s one or two word additions to whatever her sister has to say.

And whenever they ask why, he remembers how he used to talk to the other children around him when he was forced to dumb himself down so he could discuss complex things with five year olds and he uses those skills to answer his sisters’ questions.

They don’t ask the same questions they do of their mother. There are no  _ why is the sky blue _ or  _ how high is space _ or  _ why are the leaves green _ questions, but there are ones that show just how much of Izaya these girls have taken on. Mairu once asks him why he’s pretending to be a girl on the screen. Kururi asks why someone told him to die.

When a particularly troublesome anon asks Izaya for sex, both girls ask not what sex is, but instead why Izaya makes such a horrible face.

They never stop calling him Iza-nii. Over time, he decides that he doesn’t mind it.

He doesn’t love his sisters, but he finds their attachment to him relieving. They won’t grow up to be like their mother, they will grow up to be him, just better. Purer. Happier.

Not that Izaya is sad, in fact, he’s never been better. Because at long last, he’s managed to pick up his first official job.

He’s been trading information for several months now, giving away small, inconsequential things in return for much bigger tidbits that only feed his growing habit. And while he likes this bartering system, Izaya wants something bigger. He wants to prove to himself that he can turn his abilities into something that benefits him. To do that, he has to make money off of simply having the right sequence of tidbits somewhere in the back of his mind.

There’s one simple problem, Izaya is a sixth grader and he’s not exactly in the habit of letting people get close to knowing this.

In the end, he turns to a saying his mother loves to throw at him.  _ If you were to die today, the world wouldn’t stop turning. _ She used to say it when he’d crack under the pressure, when a tear would escape or his face would go hot with shame. Eventually, he understands why the saying sticks.

Someday, he wants things to exist in such a way that if he were to die, the world  _ would _ stop turning. He wants to be so central that things would grind to a halt without him. Naturally this desire changes over time. Eventually he’ll realize that he wants humanity to move on without treating him like some sort of king. Someday, he’ll understand that true success only comes when they see him as a god.

But he’s not there yet.

So he accepts that if he wants to make a name for himself, he has to step outside of his comfort zone and become a living presence, not just a name on a screen. 

To do this, he takes on his first real job. The man wants something that only someone with access to the Yakuza’s chat rooms would be able to get. It’s relatively mundane information and Izaya gives himself three days to get it. It’s a generous amount of time and much more than he needs but Izaya doesn’t want to screw this up.

He’s been trawling through the Yakuza’s things for a while now, having stolen the name of a recently deceased member. Through a series of happy accidents, he managed to get his hands on the information and has been keeping the boy alive digitally, using him as his very own lifeless puppet. It’s morbid, but Izaya’s very good at what he does.

It’s a simple matter from there of learning what he needs to. His sisters even take the time to watch, both asking questions every now and then that he patiently answers, still focusing on his work while he does so. After just two days, he’s arranged a time and place to meet the man. The amount being offered is beyond enough and Izaya’s prepared to say that if he can get paid even half this much for the amount of work he’s having to do right now for the rest of his life, he will.

When he leaves the house on the decided day, Izaya remembers to take his knife. The trusty thing is getting a little dull, but he likes it that way. Of course he also has the other knives he took from the thoroughly beaten bullies but this knife is his favorite. It’s got a comfortable black handle and a burnished blade that glows in low light like a spout of demon fire.

He doesn’t think he’ll need it, but then, you never knew. Izaya’s learning to be prepared for anything.

His sisters are the only ones to watch him go.

Izaya’s destination is a small club. It is, he decides, the safest place to meet a stranger. Of course they’re going to be in one of the back rooms, this is private business after all, but he’s not in a back alley. He hopes it’s enough.

But he knows that it will be.

Because he can’t exactly just walk through the front doors of a place like this, Izaya slips in through a window and makes his way to the room reserved for himself and the man he’s decided to call his client. His body is loose, his posture is straight. This, after all, means something.

More than physical limits, more than mental limits, more than respect online. This is credibility he’s about to start building. Reliability. If his information is good, that’s going to carry on ahead of him and make things farther down the line not only easier, but more lucrative. Izaya’s not an idiot.

He’s just starting small.

The man who waits for him is gaunt, sunken eyed and instantly surprised to see a ten year old sitting down at his table before regarding him with startling red eyes. Izaya knows that his appearance is striking, he doesn’t begrudge the appreciative look that rakes over him. He might be just a child but he’s going to turn into something befitting the airs he carries. Instead of pushing things ahead, he simply sits there and waits for the man to speak.

Taking the second glass of water from the center of the table, Izaya takes a sip and lets his eyes drift. There’s a thrumming in his bones, a rightness that this is bringing. He belongs above people, in power. With the information he has, Izaya is nothing if not above the man in front of him. It’s a small thing, but small things can become big things if given time.

He’s going to rule the world. Izaya can afford to take his time here.

Finally the man talks.

“I expected something else.”

Izaya stares at him coolly, doesn’t react to the words in the way he’s perhaps expected to. He’s used to doubt, his parents have done nothing but doubt him so in fact, trust would have been the most confusing. After taking a contemplative draught of water, Izaya lets out a short breath.

“How fascinating then that you got me.”

He decides he doesn’t like the man’s sunken expression, it’s almost hungry. Izaya instinctively doesn’t trust anything that wants something bad enough that it shows visibly. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have enough experience with the real world to know exactly  _ what _ this man wants so he has to wait for him to speak. 

Someday, he’ll learn the signs, until then, he has to live it at least once.

“Are you trying to tell me that  _ you _ have the information I want?”

The man’s face twists in laughter and Izaya spends a moment chuckling right along with him. Because yes, the thought  _ is _ ludicrous. Izaya is ten, why would he know where one specific gang member lived and whether or not they were on antidepressants. It’s such a strange circumstance, it’s almost funny.

But soon, Izaya stops laughing and merely returns to staring at the still cackling man.

“Yes, I do.”

The man rolls his eyes.

“Oh pull the other one kid, you don’t look a day over ten.”

So Izaya doesn’t fight it. He knows that he’s got the upper hand, all he has to do is use it. Getting to his feet smoothly and moving around the man, Izaya casually says, “Fine then, I’ll leave. I suppose you don’t want this badly enough.”

Almost at once a hand clamps around his arm. The man’s hands are big enough that they entirely encircle Izaya’s thin wrist. It’s a bit disconcerting and Izaya feels a shiver of revulsion at the feeling of clammy skin against his own. But he’s winning so he doesn’t fight it.

After being on the internet for as long as he has been, after being subject to his parents’ beratings, Izaya knows that there’s usually more to people than what met the eye. He’s not going to judge this man simply because his looks off put him. Insead, Izaya stops and lets the man reel him in.

“No no, sit down, I want what you have.”

So Izaya sits. Before he does anything else though, he asks a question he should have asked earlier. “Can you pay me?”

As he pulls out a bill fold, Izaya is satisfied at the amount of Yen that passes through the man’s grubby fingers. It’s definitely enough. Not wanting to waste time, Izaya gives the man what he wants. Of course like any good businessman, Izaya dithers and makes it sound like it was harder to acquire the information than it really was. It’s all a game and he’s getting a crash course in how to play it.

But finally, he’s given the man what he wants. Now all he has to do is get what the information was worth.

“I do believe you own me.”

“Mhm…” The man is staring at him, still with that hungry expression and Izaya realizes how much it makes him feel  _ wrong. _ It’s almost like he’s devouring Izaya and he really doesn’t like it. But by the time he’s realized this and is trying to get to his feet, those clammy hands are back on his skin and Izaya finds himself backed up against the table by a suddenly imposing figure. “Maybe we can cut a different sort of deal~”

He licks his lips. Izaya’s stomach turns.

“I don’t think we will,” he says slowly, not struggling yet. He’s fine, right? Nothing’s going to happen to him.

But maybe Izaya put a bit too much stock in his own invincibility.

There’s suddenly a hand under his shirt and other between his thighs. Even though he’s wearing jeans, Izaya’s painfully aware of the feeling. The hand on his waist is almost as bad, its force bruising. “Oh but I think we can,” the man purrs in a disgusting way. And Izaya should be struggling but currently his mind is overloading. After all, he wasn’t prepared for this and as the hands start to move, he can’t even begin to fight.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, something is screaming that this is wrong and he should push back. He’s got a knife wedged into his waistband for goodness sakes. One he  _ knows _ how to use. It would be easy.

But he’s paralyzed and he can’t. Move. At all.

Then something changes. There’s a sound from outside, an inhuman roar followed by the sound of something smashing against the side of a building. That momentary break in the quiet distracts the man and brings Izaya back out of his shock.

He doesn’t think, he just moves.

The knife wedges between the potential rapist’s legs and hits home. Izaya doesn’t bother to wipe off the blood that’s left on his blade, he doesn’t even really move. He just watches the man keel over in pain so intense, he’s unable to scream. His hands are steady as he waits for his own internal chemistry to settle before he finally cleans his blade on the table cloth before pulling a thin attempt at a smile.

He’s not scared. He should have expected this.

“Now that wasn’t very nice.” Tsking, Izaya reaches for the billfold and takes exactly what he’d due. He’s not unreasonable after all. Just because he stabbed the man in such a way that he’d never think about touching another child doesn’t mean Izaya is cruel. “But that’s alright, I’ll forgive you this time.”

With a little wave, Izaya leaves.

By the time he gets home, Izaya’s mind has finally caught up with what just happened and he’s shaking. He hates himself for this show of weakness but he can’t even begin to stop himself. Yes, he’d gotten what he wanted but at what cost. All he really wants is to take several dozen showers.

The moment he walks through the doors, his sisters look up from the floor.

“Play with us!” Mairu insists loudly, bouncing where she sits.

“Iza-nii,” Kururi adds.

Without even thinking, Izaya lashes out. “Shut the hell up, you two are useless!” He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t stop himself. His mind is still reeling and he doesn't want anyone to see him like this, especially not his sisters. He doesn’t want to corrupt them, spread the filth that covers him to them.

And suddenly he’s thinking about two little girls being treated like he’d just been treated and his blood runs cold.

“But Iza-nii,” Mairu attempts to beg.

“Leave me alone!” Storming off, Izaya slams the door of his room behind him before curling up against the base of his door and letting loose with a sob. The looks on his sisters’ faces are what broke him. He’s hurt them and he’s scared. But that doesn’t matter, in the end, none of it does.

Except for one thing. He needs to not get so close to Mairu and Kururi. Before, he thought that if they followed after him, he’d be proud but now he realizes he doesn’t want them to be anything like him. Izaya wants them to stay safe. He wants to be able, in some estranged and distant way, to protect them from harm. If he gets too close, they’ll follow him towards their demise. If he gets too far away, he won’t be able to keep them safe.

So he decides then that he’ll make them hate him. Hatred is something he understands after all. They’ll never care about him, but they just might be able to resent him.

If he can keep them from ever being approached by monsters like the client Izaya’d just dealt with, then he’ll have done something right with his life. He might be a tainted and dirty creature, but at least he can keep his sisters from ending up the same way. Izaya owes them that much. He owes them the chance to be normal.

And he would think through this newfound resolve more, but he’s still crying and he’s going to have to get better about that eventually.

_ If I were to have died, the world would have kept turning. _

Izaya finds this almost comforting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now it starts to make sense, yes? Poor Izaya... 
> 
> I feel like that sentiment is going to repeated a lot...


	5. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's in middle school when Izaya realizes that he's not a human but a god

Middle school, for Izaya, is a time of revelation.

Academically, it’s beyond dull, but that’s not what Izaya’s learning. In fact, it’s learning to learn that’s an issue here. Izaya’s come a long way since he was an admittedly naive five year old and he wants to go farther, but there’s a problem.

He’s stagnated. By the time he’s in middle school, he’s reached a mental block. That block consists of the fact that he’s got everything already figured out. One might think that this is a good thing but Izaya sees it as deadly. He prides himself in his dynamic, fluid way of perceiving the world and in the last two years, that ability has all but vanished. So busy was he trying to push himself to his physical limits that Izaya completely neglected his mental ones.

Now that he’s aware of that problem, he’s going to solve it.

His first thought is simply learning _more._ He reads books, mountains of them, whatever he can get his hands on. In the end though, it leaves him feeling unsatisfied. Sure he has learned but it’s left him bored. There must be some gap there in his mind that he can fill, something he doesn’t yet understand.

But it isn’t in books.

So he turns towards his budding relationship with Tokyo’s underground. At first he thinks he’s figured it out and almost manages to delude himself into believing that he’s changing and improving but in the end, he realizes that he’s not improving in the ways he wants to. His mind keeps getting sharper but he’s still looking at things through a lense. A plexiglass bubble that he can’t seem to break, no matter how many knives he throws at it.

He’s aware of the problem, he has the will to change, but he doesn’t know _how._

There then follows a period of trial and error. Izaya attempts to rush himself through what he perceives to be a stage of teenage angst but it doesn’t suit him and he doesn’t do well attempting to pretend to be something he’s not. He’s too self aware to pull it off, too focused to genuinely learn anything from dealing with those immature thoughts.

Deep down, Izaya’s starting to get worried. Humans, he knows, usually mature mentally at a much slower rate and therefore are always changing. True, it’s not at the same rate as he used to but it’s change. Those who reach the limits typically don’t keep pushing. Izaya’s an anomaly and now he can’t help but wonder if he’s not going to change again. If he doesn’t, boredom will be inevitable and Izaya doesn’t like boredom almost as much as he doesn’t like not knowing.

Right now, he’s bored and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

And he doesn’t figure it out until that day behind the school.

Izaya has his finger on the pulse of his own grade and the grades above him. He knows _everyone_ at least by name so he vaguely recognizes the girl who corners him. Perhaps cornered isn’t the right word though, it’s more like she stands in front of him and blushes and shuffles her feet like she can’t remember how to stand still.

For his part, Izaya just keeps leaning against the wall. Nothing really phases him at this point, he’s been through too much to find a mere conversation unnerving but he has a feeling that whatever is about to follow, it’s going to leave him pretty damn confused. This ability to predict his own reactions is a useful one, it means nothing takes him by surprise, not really.

But the words out of the girls mouth _do_ take him by surprise.

“I’m in love with you, go out with me.”

Izaya just blinks because it’s at that exact moment that he realizes where his mental block is. It’s been right there in front of him this whole time. Retrospectively, it makes sense that this thing of all things would leave him confused but in the moment, Izaya almost panics because he’s faced with the fact that he can’t even begin to know what to say in response.

Thankfully perhaps, the girl keeps rambling as whatever silly things she ‘feels’ come pouring out of her mouth. As he listens impassively, Izaya thinks things through. The emotions this girl thinks she is feeling, Izaya can name them. Reading people after all is a skill of his. Translating those little ticks into information that can be used however he choses.

But when he reaches into his own heart, Izaya can’t find those neat emotions within himself. What he does find there is a tightly shielded ball of things he doesn’t have names for. This, he realizes, is what he needs to understand. Beyond book learning and beyond physical prowess, Izaya finally understands that he needs to be able to _feel_ if he wants to progress.

So he tells the girl who’s now watching him nervously that he’ll give her an answer after the weekend before walking back to class. He’s got a lot to do and there’s no point in prolonging it any more than necessary.

Out of all the possible emotions that could have confused him, the word _love_ keeps cropping up. Izaya doesn’t understand love in the slightest. From what he’s seen, it’s simply a name that encompasess a great deal of messy and irritating chemical reactions in the brain that drive people to do stupid things. But he accepts that he’s in middle school and therefore doesn’t have much experience.

So he turns to his computer and looks it up. What he finds interests him, as much as something like this can.

There turn out to be many definitions of love. Izaya acquaints himself with all of them, but only two stand out, both for opposite reasons. The first is love in a physical sense. It’s called love but Izaya likes the word Eros better as it keeps things from getting confused. This, he decides, isn’t really love. It’s primal obsession at its basest form.

He’s never felt something like that. Never once in his life. Further than that though, the idea of feeling it, losing control and being driven by instincts disgusts Izaya. Hopefully, he'll never have to experience such a thing.

The other type of love that interests him is something that resonates within him in an odd way. It’s an encompassing emotion, feeling a sort of connection to those around him, liking them despite their faults, accepting them for whatever they are. Strangely enough, Izaya can relate to this feeling quite a lot because he feels it every time he watches humans move about throughout their lives. All their stupid inconsistencies, their darkness in their light, he _loves_ it.

The word feels right.

But it’s greater than this, Izaya realizes that if he looks at the feelings he has for even those supposedly close to him, even those that could be said to hate him, this emotion still applies. His parents, who he never particularly liked, fall into this category as well. Because despite how they’ve treated him, he enjoys watching how casually cruel they can be towards their own offspring. His sisters, who he regards with neutrality, also can be _loved_ in this overarching way because he’s been influencing their lives since they were born and the way they are learning to hate him as well amuses him.

That’s when he decides it, realizes it’s true.

He loves humanity.

What else could all those swirling and ever changing emotions be but love? It’s confusing enough to fit, it’s vast enough to encompass all. It even lets him acknowledge his desire to shape the lives of those around him. His watchful nature and his manipulative tongue. It’s _love._

So in a certain sense, he thinks from attop the building in Ikebukuro that he’s perched himself on, he loves the girl who confessed to him earlier. But unlike her love, which is more Eros, his is nothing special. It is the love of something greater, something omnipotent and accepting.

It’s the love of a god.

Which would, in theory, make Izaya a god or at least as close to one as is possible. He’s always been different, he’s always been above everyone else, he’s always watched people and moved them as if they were mere pieces on a game board. To the world, he is as god.

And as a god, he must love everyone in the same way. No preference, no discrimination, everyone must be equal in his eyes.

At the age of eleven, this idyllic idea of equality makes perfect sense and Izaya is determined to bring it to fruition. Why, after all, would he ever have any reason to hate a human? They’re imperfect yes but that’s part of their charm. All of them are so predictable Izaya doesn’t have to worry about being surprised by them. They can comfortably settle at the back of his mind and simply exist like that.

There will be no _obsession_ because they’re all too uniform to ever stand out. There will be nothing but love. Izaya likes this.

As he pulls himself through the front door at the ungodly hour of twelve at night, not a time for someone like him to be out, his mother instantly starts to go off on him. Izaya, usually, only sighs and prays his sisters don’t wake up. They might only be two but they’re almost as quick to throw a sharp word at Izaya as their mother.

In some ways, he’s glad they’ve grown to dislike him so perfectly, on the other hand, it means the times where they can simply sit together and exist in the same space has gone down drastically. Before, he’d sometimes wonder if that little gnawing hurt inside of him was the feeling of regret for what he’s intentionally done.

Of course now that he’s had this new revelation, Izaya realizes that the anger doesn’t really hurt him. He still _loves_ his sisters and that’s what matters.

And in the end, Izaya reflects as he watches his mother yell, his eyes seeing her lips moving even while his brain fails to register the words, he loves this woman as well. Though he knows it’s going to get him worse than what he already had coming to him, Izaya smirks. One of those devilish, evil smiles that reminds people of just why he’s so feared.

Because yes he _knows_ it’s a bad idea but when has that ever stopped him?

So it’s as his mother finally grinds to a halt in her speech that Izaya dares to stick his neck out, however stupid it might be. With a happy chirp in his voice, Izaya utters the words that are hovering at the tip of his tongue.

“I love you mother.” It feels so natural, finally giving all those strange emotions a name, that it lifts something off of Izaya. His shoulders instantly feel lighter and the world brightens, as if he’s finally broken whatever control she used to have on him.

Before his mother has a chance to fly into a rage, Izaya takes off towards his bedroom. Locking his door behind him, an action he’s gotten in the habit of doing, Izaya turns towards his laptop and is about to open it and start his real work when a voice interrupts him.

“You don’t really love her.”

Turning, he finds Mairu and Kururi huddled under the blankets of his bed. His first reaction is to tell them to _get out_ but that softer, more benevolent side of himself that he’s discovering he has takes over and Izaya simply gives his thin delicate hand a twirl. The accompanying laugh is light and airy, entirely _him_ in its every note.

“And what would either of you know about love?”

Narrowing his eyes smugly, Izaya watches as Mairu opens her mouth to protest before snapping it closed again. Her tiny brain is trying to reason through this and Izaya almost sympathizes because in the back of his mind, he has a vague memory of struggling to do just that at her age, comprehend abstract concepts.

In the end, perhaps in an attempt to spare her sister’s pride, it’s Kururi who answers.

“We don’t know,” come the small words, careful and precise like everything else the less talkative twin does.

“But neither do you.”

Mairu’s words are unbelievably stubborn but Izaya just laughs again. He no longer cares that they don’t always understand, he just accepts it with a smile. It’s almost as if nothing can get under his skin anymore simply because he’s resolved to love it all. _What a powerful force, love is._

“I understand it quite well,” Izaya hums unplugging his laptop so he can drift towards his bed with it. “I’m sure it won’t make sense to you two, but I understand love completely.”

Mairu looks skeptical. Kururi just stares passively at him. Wedging himself between the two of them, Izaya leans back against the wall before glancing between the girls as if waiting for them to speak. When they don’t, he flips open his computer.

As he starts his work, he thinks over what his sisters have said. They almost have a point and until an hour ago, Izaya would have agreed with them but he knows that his love is fundamentally different than the emotions most humans call love. His is so much bigger, so much greater than fallible human love that the two do not compare. They are entirely mutually exclusive.

So in the end, maybe they have a point when they say he doesn’t understand love. Because Izaya doesn’t, could never possibly grasp why such a shadowed and vague concept such as Eros could have such a strong pull over people. But he doesn’t want to understand it, so that’s okay. He doesn’t have the time for stupid things like that.

At long last, Mairu speaks. Says the words like she can read his mind, see inside him and witness all of the rot that he’s taken upon himself.

“You’re twisted.”

Izaya only smiles bitterly.

“Probably.”

On Monday when the girl comes looking for him, Izaya is relaxed. She’s helped him after all, though she’ll never understand how instrumental she was. Though Izaya will later say that he would have figured it out on his own, in this moment, he’s grateful. Probably, his eyes are too soft because the girl is getting more excited than she should.

“So,” she starts bravely. “What did you decide?”

Izaya rocks to his heels and leans forward to offset the shifting of his weight. He looks precarious like that, but it brings him down to the girl’s level. Smiling slightly, he rolls forward until he really is standing over her. Catching her chin under a finger, Izaya brings her face up so he can say the words softly.

“I love you.”

Her breath catches.

“In fact, I love all of humanity.”

Her soft face screws up in confusion.

“So in reality, you aren’t all that special.”

The slap is something Izaya expects. He lets it land, hardly stumbles at its force. The girl however stumbles away from him, her eyes full of anger, the pain of rejection and unshed tears. Without really meaning to, Izaya laughs in delight, even as he prods the inside of his bruised cheek with his tongue.

“You’re twisted!”

Unlike with his sisters, Izaya has no qualms correcting this girl.

“No, but I am a god.”

With those words, he walks away.


	6. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Izaya doesn't need friends, but maybe he'll end up with one regardless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This morning I had one of those 'what the fuck did I just post?' moments when I saw the shit I'd put up last night. Don't worry though, I fixed it all up nice and pretty.
> 
> I do hope you enjoy!

Izaya doesn’t have  _ friends. _

Yes he often draws people to himself, but he drives them away just as quickly. As he moves from Elementary School into Middle School, Izaya does so alone. There are no tearful goodbyes with friends because he doesn’t have any. Izaya strikes fear in the hearts of those around him, he doesn’t exactly invite companionship.

And at the outset of middle school, as he discovers his love for humans and the existence of his own emotions, Izaya fully expects this to remain the same. He loves humanity as a whole, he doesn’t want or need anything closer. If he’s being perfectly honest with himself, the idea of opening up to another individual, a tenant of what seems like most friendships that he’s observed, is entirely horrible.

If there’s one thing his life has taught him, it’s that opening up and revealing just who he really is only ever brings him grief. No, Izaya has more important things to do than invite any possible complications into it.

He’s still working with the city’s underworld when he heads into middle school, more so than ever actually, keeping most of it on the down low simply for convenience's sake. Those who need to know who he is do, but Izaya’s not  _ quite _ ready to get that kind of reputation. He’s got this thought in his head that at some point, he might be able to take this information trading and turn it into a legitimate line of work. As an  _ informant _ if you will.

But then his admittedly lonely days at the pristine middle school begin and Izaya puts those lofty goals on a back burner so he can focus more on bringing this new place into line, right under his thumb where they belong. It’s a highly detestable aim but Izaya knows deep down it’s because he  _ loves _ his humans and he doesn’t want to see them stray to far from the flock.

Much better to let him pull the strings than to wander around aimlessly after all.

Because of this self made task, Izaya doesn’t bother looking for people to talk to or, for that matter, people to be friends with. He ignores everyone.

But that doesn’t mean that everyone ignores him.

The boy is far too happy, with glasses that slip down his nose a bit and hair that falls in his eyes, Izaya doesn’t much care for him. He’s a human so Izaya figures he’s probably amusing, but that doesn’t mean he has to enjoy being approached like this.

“Hey, you! Want to join the Biology club?”

Izaya can’t even start to think of a response before the boy is amending his own question.

“I mean do you want to start one.”

The notion of starting a club or even joining one sounds like utter nonsense. Izaya’s got far better things to do with his time than a silly club. He thinks about the important meeting he has later that evening and decides that really, even this conversation isn’t worth his time.

“Sorry,” Izaya says, keeping his tone neutral. “But I’m not interested.”

He doesn’t understand why someone would ask him something like that, but it’s taken care of so Izaya walks off. Of course the boy follows but Izaya has two sisters and he’s very  _ very  _ good at ignoring people.

Nevertheless, the boy hurries to keep up.

“You don’t have to be interested, okay?”

It’s an utterly stupid statement but Izaya’s already just simply assuming that everything that comes from this boy’s mouth will be stupid in some way so he’s unsurprised.

“Let’s start one! A Biology Club!”

The repeated insistence almost manages to irk Izaya, but he’s not easily perturbed so he simply sighs.

“Kishitani, was it?”

Izaya drags the name from earlier in the day when he heard it. He’s not  _ not _ interested in this human, but he’s got too much stress currently on his shoulders to deal with him. But that’s being unfair so he attempts to pull whatever impatience he might be showing back in.

“You can call me Shinra!” the boy announces excitedly before pausing and looking confused. Izaya wants to equate him to a puppy, but somehow, he looks to maniacal for that. “Um… Sorry,” he apologizes, laughing awkwardly. “What was your name again?”

Izaya’s feathers ruffle. This boy, Shirna, wants him to be part of a club but he can’t even remember his name?  _ Oh he’ll remember it now, _ is what Izaya thinks as he answers the question.

“I’m Izaya Orihara.”

It almost sounds benign.

Shinra claps his hands together in delight as if this is the best day of his life. If Izaya were so inclined to think things like this, he would have called it adorable. But he isn’t and so he doesn’t.

“Oh, yeah, right!” he effuses. “Orihara, right?”

When Izaya doesn’t answer, Shinra continues on regardless. It leaves Izaya wondering if perhaps he could just leave and Shinra would be satisfied with talking to himself.

“I’m going to call you Orihara, but you can call me Shinra, okay?”

Izaya sighs, unsure why this conversation has gone on as long as it has but ready for it to end. He doesn’t want to join a club and he wants Shinra to leave him alone but apparently, it’s not that easy.

“Why would you ask me to start a Biology Club with you when you don’t even know my name?” Izaya points out reasonably.

“Because of what the teacher just said!” Shinra exclaims, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt that logic is not going to win in this situation. As if that fact were even up for debate...

When Izaya gives him a blank look, Shinra hurries to explain, “At this school, you can start a club with two people or more.”

_ And for whatever reason, he wants me? _ Izaya finds it patently ridiculous, so he says as much.

“No, what I’m saying is, why me?”

Shinra grins stupidly and Izaya already dislikes the answer that’s coming. He might have only spent a few minutes with Shinra but he can already tell that the boy is actually really smart and potentially a force to be reckoned with. Or he’s at least smart enough to trap someone who isn’t watching. So he waits for Shirna to drop some sort of bomb on him that’ll leave him flabbergasted.

But he doesn’t, he simply asks, “Well, you like observing living creatures, don’t you?”

Whatever Izaya’s expecting, this isn’t it.

“That’s what you said when you introduced yourself, right?” Shirna insists. “That you liked observing all kinds of living creatures.”

Failing to see the train of thought that brought them to this, Izaya tilts his head to the side. “And that leads us to a biology club how?”

Shinra’s eyes light up, like he’s got a trump card that he’s about to play.

“Humans are living creatures too!”

After spending a moment blinking at Shinra, Izaya remembers that he’s supposed to be online talking to a contact. Turning, effectively cutting off any further conversation, Izaya calls back, “Like I said, I’m not interested in starting a Biology Club.”

“I see,” Shinra sighs, and Izaya’s distinctly relieved that he’s not going to be pestered anymore.

”Then it can’t be helped.”

_ Wait, what? _

“I’m going to ask you again tomorrow, alright!”

Shinra Kishitani. He doesn’t confuse Izaya, encouraging further investigation, so much as pester him into giving in. Of course Izaya will say till he’s blue in the face that he did it all for his own benefit but sometimes he has to wonder if Shinra simply won out through pure attrition. The boy is very persistent after all.

When he first meets this curious creature, he goes about things like he always does. Carefully and methodically, gathering information where he can and using it as he sees fit. Except Shinra isn’t exactly quiet so already all of Izaya’s skills are basically rendered useless. Izaya doesn’t know what to make of it, other than to stick around.

He likes to babble, Izaya discovers within the first week of knowing him. Shirna can talk for hours given the opportunity and does. Like Izaya, he’s naturally curious, but his studies take him in a very different direction from Izaya so the boy doesn’t bother trying to equate the two. Unlike Izaya however, Shinra apparently never learned to keep his mouth shut about his observations. 

The result is an admittedly interesting, if rather continuous, stream of concious that Izaya dedicates an embarrassing amount of his mind to listening to. Not only does Shinra know a lot, he has a lot to offer. This Izaya seizes on. It gives him an excuse to stick around.

His father is a scientist. Izaya doesn’t really care about that though, what he does care about are the man’s strong ties to various underground organizations. Seeing as Shinra hears things and doesn’t have a filter through which that potentially sensitive information would be stopped by, Izaya gets to learn things. Most of the time of course is spent listening to useless drabble but Izaya’s strangely not all that averse to it.

Shinra likes to talk about everything, but he obsesses over only two as far as Izaya can tell.

The first is something Izaya can  _ almost  _ relate to. Taking after his father, Shinra loves to conduct experiments. Of course his aren’t illegal yet, but Izaya can only assume it’s going to get there in the future. Most of these tests are rather normal, but the boy wants to do them on humans which is where things start getting  a little tricky. Not that Izaya cares. He likes the idea of having a mad scientist around, no matter how many times Shinra asks if he can inject him with this or that chemical.

And while Izaya’s interest in humans stems from his love of them, he can  definitely relate to Shinra’s desire to figure out what makes them tick. In this way, they almost have something in common.

But that’s where the similarities, in Izaya’s mind, end.

The other obsession of Shinra’s is Celty, a supposedly headless woman who Shirna is madly in love with. Izaya has to roll his eyes at this. He thinks Shirna is insane for letting  _ love _ control his mind so completely, especially when it’s so clearly obsession more than anything, but Shinra is not easy dissuaded. And really, Izaya doesn’t try very hard.

Maybe it’s because it’s this one particular point that makes Shinra so interesting. Most humans claim to like a fair number of other humans, just on principle or they delude themselves into hating them. Shinra is neutral to the world. Whereas Izaya loves all humans, it could be said that Shinra loves none of them. He watches them through the lense of a microscope or the glass of a test tube and that’s really the extent of his feelings towards humans.

Perhaps this is why he puts up with Izaya, no matter how morally detestable some of the things he does are. He doesn’t care how Izaya makes his money, he doesn’t care how the boy finds entertainment. To a certain level, he doesn’t even care that Izaya’s clearly observing him like he’s a specimen of sorts which honestly does confuse Izaya.

Most people care about that sort of thing.

So when the gambling ring starts, Izaya actually has a purpose for it, not that he’ll ever admit this is what his purpose is. He’ll tell anyone who asks that he wants money and power but the simple fact is, he already has those things. Izaya doesn’t need anymore blackmail because he already possesses the ability to destroy almost everyone in the school with just a word. It also isn’t as he claims, a way to examine how easily humans can be lead into destructive vices which can then be used to control them.

Those are, naturally, perfectly good reasons. But Izaya actually wants to see if he can make Shinra dislike him. Prove to Izaya that the boy is actually just like everyone else. Except he  _ doesn’t _ hate Izaya. He’s upset, understandably, but he never actually abandons Izaya. This is perhaps the most perplexing thing of all.

Izaya doesn’t have friends, but he’s doing a piss poor job of driving Shinra away.

But as the situation develops, Izaya’s forced to question whether or not he actually wants to drive Shinra away at all. Because for whatever else you can say about the boy, Shinra is different and Izaya, who’s been spending the last several years striving to treat all humans equally, finds that this throws a wrench in his system.

From what Izaya can see, the most obvious example of this is the fact that he still hasn’t tried to manipulate Shinra in any way. Izaya doesn’t for a moment doubt that he  _ could _ he just sees no reason to. And this is entirely strange because Izaya’s relationships with the world have come to be built on manipulation. Shinra is the only exception.

Mostly, this is because Izaya has a strong feeling that attempting to control Shirna would be pointless. He could do it, but all it would result in is the same thing that just asking would produce. In this instance, Izaya sees nothing to be gained. And though this usually wouldn't stop him, it stops him here.

Despite Izaya not really looking for friends, he’s found companionship and though he tells himself he doesn’t care, the day everything comes to a head, he acts like he does. It’s not even a conscious decision, Izaya just moves.

Or rather, Shinra moves and Izaya simply acts afterwards.

“Orihara!”

“Oh, is that you Nakura?” Izaya stares at the boy in the door of the classroom and twirls his fingers playfully. “We’ve closed all bets you know?”

The boy is upset about the amount of debts he’s accumulated through Izaya’s gambling ring. Izaya doesn’t exactly care how he feels, in fact, he’s having fun watching this human crumble before him. Later, he’ll admit that he should have been a little bit more attentive to what was going on, it’s his fault it happened.

“Hey… Please…” He’s begging, Izaya’s always enjoyed watching people beg. There’s something highly satisfying in watching a human prostrate themselves willingly. “The money I bet till yesterday… Give it back to me, I’m in trouble!”

He looks like he’s in trouble, not that Izaya is bothered. The look on Nakura’s face is so entertaining, Izaya can hardly resist.

“Unless I get it back my dad’s gonna find out that I took money from his wallet…” Nakura babbles, shaking as he speaks. Izaya just smiles slightly, sweetly almost. Except it’s so many kinds of twisted that only a fool would think it’s sincere.

“You only have yourself to blame, don’t you?”

And though Izaya doesn’t  _ care _ when it happens,  he’s definitely not okay.

Shinra is in the back of the empty classroom they use for their club when the boy shows up. Izaya never expects him to so much as turn around. After all, Shinra doesn’t care about Izaya, that fact’s already been established. All he cares about is his ‘beloved’ and his research and the second one’s sort of iffy. Intervention is out of the question as far as Izaya’s concerned.

“I never once forced you to place any bets, you know!” Izaya lilts.

Then Nakura draws a knife and Izaya’s smirk widens as he reaches for a stool, just in case he has to fend the boy off.

“Are you serious Nakura?” Izaya asks, trying to sound disappointed but failing miserably. He’s so delighted to be getting such a reaction, he can hardly help it. Finally, he gets to indulge in some choice entertainment, watching a human fall apart.

“Hand it over, I said hand it over!”

The blade in Nakura’s hand shakes. Izaya’s not scared. There’s no way for this to backfire on him.

“To be honest-” Izaya starts, ignoring Nakura’s loud wail of  _ give it back! _ “I don’t see any value in giving that money back to you. I know all about it.” He smirks yet wider, so  _ happy _ to be getting to use this information against the fellow student. “You’ve followed people who won several times, right? We’ve been getting complaints.”

“Never mind that!” Nakura yells. “Give it back! Give it back!”

_ How pathetic… _

As the man charges, Izaya simply states, “You really are a moron.”

He would have avoided the blade just fine is what he tells himself in an attempt to make Shinra’s actions out to be pathetic and reckless. Izaya would never have done something like that for someone else after all, self-sacrifice is one of the stupidest things to exist in his mind and who, in Izaya’s mind, is worth of his sacrifice anyway?

“Wait-!”

He doesn’t care about the knife, but Shirna does.

The boy gets between Izaya and the angered student. Izaya doesn’t even have time to react before Shinra’s falling to the floor, blood soaking the front of his jacket. But Izaya doesn’t have time to act stunned, never even bothers because well, he  _ isn’t, how dare someone suggest that he didn’t see this coming.  _ Instead he just looks at the idiotic boy who dared to draw a knife on him and then proceeded to stab someone who wasn’t even part of the discussion with all the rage and fire that he never shows.

Izaya’s anger is a quiet anger. It’s not even really anger, it’s just the promise that he’s going to make this student’s life  _ hell, _ not just for his time at school, but forever. It’s stupid and it’s vengeful and it’s not like him at all but as damning words drip through Izaya’s mind and the student runs from the room, he realizes that it doesn’t matter because it’s  _ Shinra _ and that has started to mean something.

As Shirna falls to the ground, Izaya finally moves. “Hang on, I’ll call for an ambulance!” His voice isn’t shaking, Izaya’s voice  _ doesn’t  _ shake. He just shuts off that stupid part of himself and goes back into a logical frame of mind. He has to deal with this, he has to stay calm. It’s only a human, they’re highly replaceable.

“Before you do that, duct tape…” Shirna manages, smiling for whatever goddamned reason that Izaya will never understand. “For now… I have to stop the bleeding…”

As he helps Shinra staunch the worst of the bleeding because damnit he’s  _ not _ going to let the boy die and then as he’s calling the ambulance, Izaya’s thinking. He’s good at this part, like this, he doesn’t have to worry about Shinra because he’s already working through how he’s going to turn this around. How best to get revenge.

He’s not like this, but right at that moment, he realizes that he’s  _ good _ at it. Izaya is naturally patient and he’s willing to take his time to achieve the maximum effect.

“Let me take the blame for it.” He phrases it like a request but he’s not going to take no for an answer. Shinra lets him, wonder of all wonders, and Izaya’s distinctly glad. This is going to be easier than he at first thought. It’ll be worth it in the end too because someday, he’s going to be able to haunt that student, Nakura, forever.

It’s amazing how easily people swallow the story. No one ever questions whether Izaya actually was the one who hurt Shinra because there was no doubt in their minds that he could and would do it anyway. Once again, Izaya’s parents don’t care. They pretend to, they act like they are upset but they aren’t. Izaya’s sisters think he’s disgusting for it, which in Izaya’s mind means they at least care enough to hate him for being so morally detestable.

Shinra knows the truth and once he’s back from the hospital, he goes right back to Izaya. Everyone thinks he’s crazy. Hell, Izaya thinks he’s crazy, but he’s almost happy to have that mildly irritating occasionally amusing presence back in his life. Nakura fades into obscurity just as Izaya hoped he would, living in fear of the truth coming out.

The rest of the school just stays away. When it happens, Izaya tells himself that he’s not really doing this because of Shinra, that’s all just a cover, it’s really because he wants to make others fear him. And if that’s what he’s going for then it’s working. Everyone who walks by him looks at him with fear in their eyes. They keep their heads down and speak in hushed voices. Unless Izaya speaks to them, then they babble like children who are afraid of a beating.

It’s what he’s wanted for a long time, a reputation as someone not to be trifled with. Even the teachers fear him, even they cave under his crafty tongue and the rumors that precede him. It couldn’t have worked out better.

And as he watches children cower in fear around him, Izaya tells himself that this is what he wanted. He doesn’t care that everyone hates him or is terrified of him. Because he never wanted friends in the first place. The whole thing with Shinra is just a fluke, one Izaya’s not going to repeat. Any relationships he forms thus far will be as superficial as possible. He doesn’t need deep connections, he just needs his humans to see him as the god he is.

Shinra’s not a friend, sometimes Izaya wonders if he’s even human, but Izaya realizes that he’d really miss the boy if he weren't around.

And that’s as close to human as Izaya’s willing to get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is wondering, yes, that is verbatim dialogue from the anime. Just trying to stick with the canon until I absolutely must deviate from it. And while I know that there are lots of discrepancies with my stories, I hope you can overlook them and just enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I know, I don't understand it either.
> 
> But you got to the end so hey, you earned that cookie. *hands you an internet cookie*
> 
> Good job.


End file.
